


Blind Pursuit

by AvengerofSquids



Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Attempted Murder, Blood and Injury, Colorblind GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Failed escape, Gen, GeorgeNotFound-centric, Graphic Description, Head Injury, Hunter!Dream, Hurt GeorgeNotFound, Magic, Minecraft, Near Death Experiences, On the Run, Realistic Minecraft, Stabbing, Whump, Whumptober 2020, chase scene, manhandled, overuse of italics and the em dash because i'm still learning how to write action scenes, sorta? i mean it's minecraft with magic and that's kinda medieval-y, this is kinda a teaser for an actual story i have in mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26850466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvengerofSquids/pseuds/AvengerofSquids
Summary: "I think you're wrong," George says, then flinches, but Dream doesn't seem upset over George correcting him. "I haven't- the worst thing I've done is steal bread, once. Why would you be told to kill me?""I've fought squid more threatening than you," Dream hums, and George is too relieved to feel insulted. "But the book's never been wrong before, so there has to besomethingdangerous about you.".For some reason, the most infamous hunter in the kingdom has spent the last week chasing George down. It was never going to be a fair fight.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Whumptober 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960156
Comments: 18
Kudos: 247
Collections: Whumptober, Whumptober 2020





	Blind Pursuit

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing these characters; I had a lot of fun with this! I love reading chase- and fight-scenes so it was nice writing one, even if I don't think I executed it as well as I would have liked. Also, obligatory "if the Dream Team changes their stance on fanfic, I'll take this down and also this is based off their Minecraft personas not the actual people" disclaimer.
> 
> This is technically less violent than my previous fic, even though the last one doesn't have the "Graphic Depics of Violence" warning, but I felt like the Walking Dead fandom has a higher tolerance for violence than the Minecraft one so that's why this one has the warning even though it's technically less violent. 
> 
> Written for the Whumptober 2020 prompts "Manhandled" and "On the Run/Failed Escape."

"Oh George! Did you leave these furnaces here just for _me?_ "

George freezes, the tip of his pickaxe hovering next to the wall as he struggles to pinpoint his pursuer's voice. The man was supposed to be nowhere _near_ him; how had he managed to track George through that swamp? That should have thrown the hunter off his trail and left him with enough of a head start to get away!

Instead, George is stuck listening to the masked man root through the supplies that _he_ had spent hours gathering.

Footsteps echo on the other side of the wall, followed by the sound of a chest slamming shut. "C'mon out, George, I know you wouldn't leave all this iron unattended. I bet you're burrowed in one of these walls like a little silverfish, shaking in those ratty leather boots of yours."

George stiffens when the man runs his iron sword along the stone floor, the sound as unsettling as it is painful. Surely the hunter would lose interest and wander off if he kept quiet; George knew from experience that the man grew bored quickly and didn't usually have the patience for traps. All he had to do was not give away his position.

Easier said than done when there's only three feet of stone separating him from someone doing their very best to flush him out.

"Have you even made _any_ iron armor, or did you waste it all on that fancy new pick of yours?" There's the rustling of clothing, the sound of a book flipping open, then silence for a minute. "Nope, says here you haven't gotten that far. Either my tracking spell's wrong, or you're just an idiot."

 _Tracking spell?_ George shudders, fighting the urge to strip and check his armor for rune markings that very second. The hunter somehow knew magic, and what sounded like complicated stuff at that? Also, how had he managed to tag George? Was it a rune-spell or some kind of potion?

He must have done it when he'd tackled George right outside the swamp; that was the only time the man had managed to make contact with him. _No wonder he didn't seem too fussed about me getting free; he's been tracking me this whole time!_

From the sounds of it, this spell was letting the hunter follow him _and_ get some information on what he's been doing, which left George at a major disadvantage. Did the hunter know everything George was carrying, or was he just notified about certain things? It didn't seem like he knew about George's bow or golden axe, although it was possible he just thought those weren't worth mentioning.

"Come _on_ , George, don't make this boring!" George can practically _hear_ the pout in the man's voice; somehow, that just makes the hunter seem more dangerous. "We can't have a fair fight if you're hiding in a tunnel; I'd just corner you! Come on out into the open and I won't stab you until you're ready, promise."

George doesn't answer; his pickaxe is growing heavy in his hands.

"Fine, have it your way."

The solid _thwack_ of metal against stone rings out through the cave, startling George into dropping his own pickaxe with an even louder clang. The hunter lets out a shriek of laughter, then continues to mine through the wall, and George abandons his pick and _runs_.

There's another cave system at the end of this series of tunnels; if he gets there, he can probably lose the hunter and reach the surface. Then he'd have enough space to use his bow, which is his only chance at winning this fight.

The hunter has longer legs, but he also has more armor, which should slow him down. George can hear the man's footsteps behind him as he sprints; close, but not quite gaining on him. He has some time.

The tunnel curves right, then opens into a cave that's similar in size to a ravine. George falters when he spots the glow of the lava pool up ahead; he'll have to climb around it, and fear curls in his gut when he realizes how easy it would be for his pursuer to knock him in. _Surely there's another way--_

Fabric swishes as the hunter rounds the corner, and George knows he's out of time.

He starts to inch his way around the edge of the lava pool, glancing over his shoulder to see the masked man watching him with his sword drawn. There's a beat of stillness, and George wonders if the hunter's too scared of slipping to follow. After all, even iron boots aren't enough to protect someone's feet if they happen to dip their toes into lava.

The hunter grins, suddenly, before barking out a laugh. "Don't slip, George! I know you're tiny, but that ledge really doesn't have enough room for you!"

"I'm not tiny!" George yelps, indignation replacing his fear for half a second before he remembers that the man he's shouting at _has a sword._ "You're just freakishly tall!"

"I wouldn't say _freakishly,_ " the hunter grumbles, before sheathing his sword and pulling out a bottle of a pale yellowish liquid. He takes a swig from it, then grimaces. "Damn, that's nasty."

 _Is that a potion of healing?_ The color seems right, sort of, but George knows better than to try telling potions apart by color. _No, healing tastes like melon, and it can't be swiftness because that has a sweet flavor. Maybe it's a regen potion?_

The hunter drains the rest of the bottle, then tosses it to the side and smirks at George, who flinches and starts moving away again. _Don't pay attention. He's just trying to distract you._

He's about halfway around the lava; there's a steep wall with plenty of handholds at the other side, and he's pretty sure he can make out the night sky up above. The climb will suck, but he can't mine his way up without a pickaxe, so it's his best shot.

The hunter _steps into the lava pool._

George cries out before he can stop himself, staring at the man with wide eyes as he waits for him to catch on fire. He going to have to watch this _dumbass_ burn alive, have to see his skin peel off and melt. The man might have been trying to kill him, but that's not a death he would wish on anyone.

Nothing happens.

The hunter lets out a low whistle, keeping his arms above the lava as he stands waist-deep in the boiling liquid. His jaw is tense and there's a nervous frown in place of his usual smirk--even though the mask covers the rest of his face, George is sure he's studying the lava anxiously--but after a few seconds pass without him bursting into flames, his usual bravado returns.

"Better hurry up, George," he teases, before drawing his sword and rushing forward.

George whips around and bolts, yelping when he stumbles and burns his foot in his haste. The walkway's too small for him to be moving this quickly, and every loose stone nearly sends him tumbling into the lava, but he doesn't have any time to waste.

The hunter's slowed down somewhat by the thick lava, but he doesn't have to worry about moving carefully like George does, so he doesn't seem to have much trouble keeping up. For one heart-stopping second, George thinks the man's going to grab his leg and drag him into the lava, but the hunter seems to change his mind and moves to the edge of the pool instead.

George stumbles off the ledge and away from the lava pool, letting out a wet gasp as he scrubs at his goggles, which have started to fog up now that he's in the crisp night air and away from the baking heat. There's a splash behind him, and George turns to see the masked man pulling himself out of the pool, glowing magma trickling down his armor and sizzling against the cold stone floor.

_Shit shit shit--_

George throws himself at the rocky cliff and immediately starts climbing, cursing when his shaking fingers keep slipping off most of the handholds he grabs. A hand grabs his shirt and pulls; his palms bleed against the rough rock, but he kicks out wildly and manages to get free.

He's almost halfway there, the stars easily visible above him. Maybe he'll be able to knock the hunter down once he reaches the top so he can get a head start--

A firm grip wraps around his ankle and yanks before he can free himself, causing his bloody hands to slip and sending him tumbling to the ground. He twists around, drawing his axe and swinging blindly at his attacker, but the hunter easily counters his blow before grabbing a fistful of George's hair and slamming his head into the wall.

George frantically claws at the man's wrist and the hunter spits out a curse, pulling him closer before shoving him back against the wall. This time, George's temple takes the brunt of it; his vision fills with static as everything slips away.

He blinks and finds himself slumped against the wall, one leg tucked into his chest while the rest of his limbs are haphazardly splayed out against the stone. His mouth feels numb and his goggles are gone.

Something wet trickles down his cheek; it's too warm to be rain.

Metal clatters against stone and George twitches, glancing over to watch the masked man kick his axe out of reach. His goggles meet a similar fate; the hunter picks them up and studies them for a moment before tossing them to the side.

Without his goggles to help correct his vision, the hunter's outfit looks almost piss-yellow, and George giggles before he can stop himself because that makes the crudely-drawn smiling mask seem cheerful rather than threatening. The hunter stares at him, head tilted to the side, and George just snorts harder at his confusion.

He stops laughing pretty quick, because the hunter steps forward and rests the tip of his sword against George's neck.

George shudders, shoulders hunching as he tries to press himself further into the wall, and it's the hunter's turn to chuckle.

"Is your head wound really that bad or are you just losing it?" He asks, flicking his sword up so he can tap it against George's cheek. "No one said anything about you being crazy."

"If anyone's crazy, you are! You've been chasing me all week for no reason!" George blurts out, shoving the blade away even though his skin splits at the contact. "Why are you trying to kill me?"

"I'm not _trying_ to kill you, I'm _going_ to," the hunter hisses, his easygoing tone instantly replaced with something much more menacing; George glances to the side, gauging the distance to his axe. "You're interesting, though, I'll give you that. Very different from my usual targets."

The man pulls his sword back, preparing to swing, and George lunges for his axe.

His elbow smacks into the ground as he skids across the stone, grabbing the axe by its handle and scrambling to his feet, but the hunter tackles him with enough force to send him sprawling. George squirms, trying to get his limbs back under him, and the man kicks him in the ribs before planting a foot between his shoulder blades and pressing down.

The man's too large for George to throw off, the metal toe of his boot digging into George's spine as he leans forward and uses his strength to keep George pinned. George pulls his axe closer to his chest and the hunter hums before driving his sword through George's hand.

George shrieks, whole body jerking, then starts coughing as he struggles to suck fresh air into his lungs. The hunter eases up on the pressure slightly before yanking his sword free in one clean motion; George gags at the sound and feel of metal sliding against bone.

"Well, George, that was pointless." George lets out a pained whine when a wave of heat starts pulsing down his arm. "That axe wouldn't have made it through my armor even if you had managed to hit me."

George doesn't know what to do.

Tacky blood's smeared across his face and dripping into his eyes, his hearing's gone muffled on one side, he can't feel his fingers anymore. He's going to die.

"Wait," he gasps out, struggling to piece something-- _anything_ \--together. "Wait, hold on, you're wrong-"

"I don't think I am," the hunter snarls, swinging his sword in a lazy arc; George might not be able to see what the man's doing, but he can hear the blade cutting through the air and see droplets of his own blood being scattered around the cave as they're flung from the weapon. "I'm supposed to get rid of a guy named George with brown hair, a weird accent, and a stupid pair of goggles. Sound familiar?"

"I haven't- holy shit, Dream," George croaks, because he's finally recognized the hunter's iconic smiling mask. That, combined with the probably-green outfit and the combat and potion expertise, makes the man's identity rather obvious and George wonders how he didn't realize it sooner. "You're _Dream,_ why are you after _me?_ "

Because George hasn't been running from any ordinary hunter; no, apparently the _most infamous hunter in the kingdom_ has been chasing him down for the past week and a half. He's practically a ghost story in some places, and many people didn't even think he actually existed, probably because few people ran into him without being killed.

"You're dangerous." The hun- _Dream_ says, but he sounds almost uncertain. "That's what the book says, at least."

 _Book?_ "I think you're wrong," George says, then flinches, but Dream doesn't seem upset over George correcting him. "I haven't- the worst thing I've done is steal bread, once. Why would you be told to kill me?"

"I've fought squid more threatening than you," Dream hums, and George is too relieved to feel insulted. "But the book's never been wrong before, so there has to be _something._ "

George shakes his head as best he can. "Please, I swear I'm not bullshitting you, I genuinely have no clue why you would've been sent after me. I struggle to fight mobs, I suck at magic, I can't even _see_ properly-"

The weight's lifted off his back and he rolls over, propping himself up on his elbows and squinting at Dream as the man steps back and pulls out a battered leather book. The cover looks like it's been dyed red, or maybe green, and it's covered in runes that almost glow in the moonlight.

George doesn't even bother to look for his axe; the hunter still has his sword drawn and George isn't going to waste the second chance he's just been given. Instead, he lets himself collapse onto the cool stone floor and throws an arm over his eyes as he waits.

Eventually there's some more rustling, and George peeks out from under his arm to see Dream watching him. He can't quite figure out the hunter's expression--the mask covers the upper half of the man's face, and a frown isn't really enough to go off of.

"Are you gonna kill me, then?" George finally says after a minute of silence. Dream lifts his sword and George tenses, but the man just sheathes it and turns away.

"Maybe later," The man says, before disappearing into one of the many tunnels leading into the room. George huffs and rolls over so he can use his good arm as a pillow.

His whole body aches, and his left hand's unusable at this point, but he's _alive_ and that's all that really matters. As long as Dream doesn't change his mind, he'll stay that way.

He closes his eyes and waits for daybreak.

**Author's Note:**

> Please reblog on tumblr; it really helps more people find my work: https://avengerofsquids.tumblr.com/post/631285499974352896/blind-pursuit-mcyt-whumptober
> 
> I have plans for SO MANY mcyt fics, just you wait. Most of them are "Minecraft is Real Life" and Dream Team-centric, but I have some other ideas as well ;)
> 
> This one is kinda worldbuilding for an AU I have in mind where magic is intrinsic to Minecraft; it's basically a practice scene for an actual story I plan to write. Some "key tags" for that story (aside from everything already touched on here): Dream isn't exactly a hunter by choice, George's colorblindness is an actual plot point, and it probably won't involve them going after the Ender Dragon but they might end up in the Nether at some point.
> 
> Before anyone asks, here's my stance on shipping them: at the moment, any fics I write involving the Dreamnotfound ship will not be revolving around it. I enjoy writing about them as friends just as much as or more than writing them romantically. I probably will write ship fics involving the Dream Team (UNLESS THEY CHANGE THEIR STANCE ON IT) but I'm more interested in writing plotty action/adventure stories atm. This fic idea specifically would probably be platonic or have very mild shipping (honestly I tend to view their characters as having more of a queerplatonic relationship?). Also I am generally uncomfortable with the idea of using Dream's real name in my writing so there's that.


End file.
